


Where Are You?

by Anobii1992



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Caring, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Nightmares, PostPrisonDoc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27842866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anobii1992/pseuds/Anobii1992
Summary: If Yaz is honest with herself she thinks she should leave the TARDIS. A part of her knows she’s not safe. Travelling with the Doctor had never been safe of course but Yaz had trusted the Old Doctor implicitly. Had known that even if something had happened to her, that the Doctor would have done everything in her power and then some to save her. Now… would she even notice? She treated Yaz as nothing more than an inconvenience these days. Not seeming to notice or care that she was there.So what should she do when the Doctor disappears?
Comments: 7
Kudos: 34





	Where Are You?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WalkerLister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WalkerLister/gifts).



> My Birthday Present to the incredible Walkerlister, if you haven't read her stuff you definitely should!
> 
> I don't know what happened my tenses haha!

Yaz trudged back to the Tardis, exhausted. They had been on a tiny planet called Colaf for the last week or so helping the indigenous species there deal with a horrific plague that had been infecting their people. 

The Doctor, she had taken it even more personally than she normally did, becoming more and more emotionally invested and intent on saving every last citizen on the planet. Only, she hadn’t been able to. Of course she hadn’t been able to. Her work in the laboratory they had been holed up in had become more and more frantic, more desperate, more… erratic. Yaz knew, and the Doctor knew, that if she had been able to keep a better grip on her emotions, she might have been able to work faster. Do more. 

As it was, less than a tenth of the planet had survived to be vaccinated, to pick up the pieces of their lives. Yaz had tried to console the Doctor that without her help, none of those people would have survived at all. And to the Old Doctor, it might have worked. But not this Doctor. The New Doctor. She’d changed. 

Well, a quarter of a century in solitary confinement would do that to a person. 

She had turned up one day. Weeks and weeks after she had sacrificed herself on Gallifrey. In the middle of a Dalek invasion. She had dealt with the Dalek with terrifying ruthlessness before collapsing in a heap and spending a week sleeping on Graham and Ryan’s sofa. 

And then she had been gone. Not physically, she had hung around for a day or so, long enough for Graham to feed her, but her constant fidgeting and complete inability to focus or sit still had been driving them all round the twist and as soon as she’d been able to escape, she had been running for the TARDIS, Yaz following. Graham and Ryan staying behind. 

Yaz wished they were here now. 

She needed someone to talk to. 

The Doctor wasn’t well, she was sure of it. Physically she wasn’t in great shape, she had lost the gaunt look she’d arrived home with, but she was still far too thin and pale. The pronounced limp she now walked with didn’t seem to be getting any better and Yaz knew her body was littered with scars in a variety of shapes, sizes and colours, all of which she kept hidden under her clothes. But it was her mental state Yaz was far more concerned with. Snappy, irritable, more closed off than ever before which was saying something, all fake smiles and sunshine one minute, cold and distant the next. Never resting, never pausing, not for a second. And she point blank refused to talk about what she’d been through. All Yaz knew was that she’d been in prison, in solitary confinement for a crime she didn’t remember committing, for 26 years. And that was only because the TARDIS had told her. 

The TARDIS seemed as concerned about her thief as Yaz was, she was forever sending out soothing beeps and whistles, making food and drink appear wherever the Doctor happened to be all of which she ignored. She looped the corridors so the Doctor could only get to her bedroom or to Yaz’s bedroom or the library, somewhere, anywhere, she might sit down and rest for a while. 

It wasn’t working. In fact the Doctor seemed to be taking great offence to it. She spent hours pulling at the TARDIS’s wiring and internal mechanisms trying to fix the problem. Yaz had heard her rages while she did it. She’d tried to seek her friend out in those times, to try and provide her with some comfort but when it happened, she could never find the Doctor. She suspected the TARDIS was keeping her away for her own safety. The thought didn’t sit well with Yaz. It was like the Doctor was disintegrating in front of her eyes. And there was nothing she could do. 

The Doctor’s pace was frantic as they climbed the hill and, fit as she was, Yaz was struggling to keep up. The Old Doctor would have waited for her. Would have slowed down. 

Yaz suspected if she made it back to the TARDIS too late, the New Doctor would leave her behind, too anxious to be off on her next adventure. Completely unable to wait. To be still. To give herself time. 

Yaz picked up her pace as best as she could. She’s hadn’t managed more than a few cat naps over the last few days. The Old Doctor would have cared. Would have made sure she had the opportunity to rest, no matter what else was going on. 

In fact, she hadn’t had much time for sleep since she had been back in the TARDIS. The Doctor hadn’t slept at all. The couple of nights Yaz had managed a proper rest, the Doctor had simply left her behind. Gone off without her. She’s growing reckless. Each time she comes back, she looks like she’s received another injury. Sometimes she tries to hide them. Sometimes she doesn’t bother. All the time she ignores Yaz concern, brushes her off. 

If Yaz is honest with herself she thinks she should leave the TARDIS. A part of her knows she’s not safe. Travelling with the Doctor had never been safe of course but Yaz had trusted the Old Doctor implicitly. Had known that even if something had happened to her, that the Doctor would have done everything in her power and then some to save her. Now… would she even notice? She treated Yaz as nothing more than an inconvenience these days. Not seeming to notice or care that she was there. 

Yaz picked up the pace. 

Yaz hasn’t seen the Doctor for days. Not since Colaf. She had staggered into the console room to find the Doctor already in the middle of taking off. She hadn’t acknowledged Yaz when she had announced she was going for a shower and going to bed. Yaz wasn’t entirely sure she had noticed. 

When she had woken up the next morning it was to find the Doctor gone. Again. Yaz had gone outside for a few minutes to look for her but she was worried that if she strayed too far, if she wasn’t there whenever the Doctor decided to grace her with her presence, that the Doctor wouldn’t even notice she was missing and would leave. Yaz had no idea where they were. Some alien planet, it definitely wasn’t earth. In fact, the whole place gave her a headache. 

The TARDIS didn’t seem any happier than she did. It was like it was crying or in pain or something all around her. Yaz couldn’t communicate with her like the Doctor did but she very much hoped that the TARDIS wasn’t in mourning. It certainly felt like she was. 

The Doctor was gone for longer this time and Yaz had fallen into an uneasy routine. At first she had haunted the console room, sure the Doctor would be back at any minute. And when she was, Yaz was going to tackle her. Demand that they talk or else that she be taken home. 

But as more days passed Yaz had started exploring more of the TARDIS, trying to keep the worry from her mind. She swam in swimming pools, watched alien movies about humans in the cinema, read books in the library, watched the sky from the astronomy tower, learned where everything was in the medbay, worked out in the gym, baked cakes in the gourmet kitchen. But nothing managed to hold her attention for long. She found other rooms too. A laboratory full of equipment that she didn’t recognise. Dining room. Ball rooms. A soft play centre. And the Doctor’s private quarters. 

Yaz hadn’t even known she had private quarters. It made sense she supposed, the TARDIS was her home, but she opened it up to her friends with no reservations. Well, she had. She should have some place that was just hers. Yaz was amazed the TARDIS let her in, the Doctor certainly wouldn’t have, but she got the impression that the TARDIS was as worried about her as Yaz was at this point. 

It was a suite of rooms, a bedroom, bathroom, sitting room and study. They had warm, wood panelled walls, thick, plush carpets, huge, merrily crackling fires in the fireplaces and very nice, wooden furniture. All four rooms had views of the stars. They were homely but also had an air of neglect, like the Doctor hadn’t used them for a long time. 

She had spent some time in there, trying to understand the woman she had once been proud to call her best friend. It hadn’t revealed much. Two photographs on the desk in the study were as personal as the rooms got, one a colour photograph of a woman with a shock of wild curls, the other a black and white photo of a teenage girl. Yaz wondered who they were – her family maybe? Old friends? Old lovers? Herself even? The wardrobe had been empty, the drawers to the desk locked, and the room was scrupulously tidy. No real traces of the woman who apparently occupied it. Yaz wondered when the last time she had been in here was. 

Every morning when she woke up, Yaz went outside, just for a minute. She was confirming that the TARDIS hadn’t moved during the night, that the Doctor hadn’t come home and immediately left again. It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility. 

It was the morning of Day 17. Yaz had moved on from anger. Now she was terrified. Was this her life now? Was the Doctor dead? Would she spend the rest of her life in isolation on the TARDIS on this weird planet that gave her the worst headaches of her life every time she opened the doors? She was pacing anxiously in the console room, wondering if there was any way to get the TARDIS to confirm or deny what she was strongly beginning to suspect. Maybe take her to find… to find a body or something. She had to know. 

But it was at that precise moment that, unbelievably, the doors to the TARDIS opened and the Doctor staggered inside. Yaz rushed to her side. 

“Where the hell have you been?” she cried angrily. 

The Doctor ignored her, lurching unsteadily towards the console where she started flicking buttons, twisting dials, pulling levers. 

All around her the TARDIS was chiming in, apparently no happier than Yaz was right now. 

“You can't just disappear for seventeen days and then say nothing!” 

Apparently, she could. She wasn’t even looking in Yaz’s direction. 

Somehow that made Yaz even angrier than ever. 

“Look at me!” she shouted, reaching out to grab the Doctor’s arm. 

But the Doctor was quicker than Yaz was. Before Yaz’s hand was anywhere near making contact with the Doctor, the Doctor had grabbed her wrist in a grip so tight it was painful and Yaz fought the urge to wince. She could feel just how cold the Doctor’s hands were through the fabric of her jumper, but not as cold as the look on her face. It was a look designed to intimidate and Yaz had never seen it before. She realised she was afraid. 

This was as close as Yaz had been to the Doctor since she had been asleep on Graham’s sofa, and now she’s up close, Yaz realises that she looks dreadful. She’s grey, there are huge purple smudges under her eyes that seem to stretch down to her hollow cheeks and there’s a sheen of sweat over her skin. Her hair is lank and greasy, a wild tangle that Yaz would hate to have to deal with and was she… was she trembling? Yaz can't quite be sure. 

The Doctor glares at her. She looks furious. She let go of Yaz’s arm, pushing her away slightly in the process and stomping off into the TARDIS corridors. Yaz tried to follow, but she was nowhere to be found. 

Predictably, Yaz spent the rest of the day by herself, the Doctor was nowhere to be found. Though at least Yaz knew she was on board somewhere this time, they were still in the Time Vortex. Yaz hung around in the console room for a while that evening but she decided she wasn’t waiting up late for the Doctor to grace her with her presence. Instead she took herself off to bed. At least she knew the other woman wasn’t dead now. 

Yaz woke abruptly that night. She wasn’t sure why exactly. It was the middle of the night, or what passed for the middle of the night on the TARDIS. She had been sound asleep anyway. Yaz sat up, confused and blinking in the dim light. 

Something was tugging in the back of her mind, urging her to get up. The TARDIS presumably. That thought was confirmed when there was a soft bong of approval echoed through her room and the tug in her head was telling her to hurry up. 

Yaz pushed her feet into her ridiculous teddy bear slippers that Ryan had bought her last Christmas and shrugged her dressing gown on over the top of her pyjamas. She wandered into the hall, it was only half lit. She followed the lights. There was a weird noise. Not the usual mechanical beeps and whirs that she could usually hear. It was organic. Yaz kept walking. 

Screaming. It was screaming. 

Yaz broke into a run. 

The screaming was getting louder now, reverberating around the halls. Yaz realised she knew where she was, she was in the corridor that led to the Doctor’ private suite. Yaz hesitantly pushed open the door, nervous about what she might be greeted by. Frightened by what the Doctor might do at the intrusion on what was probably a very private moment. 

The door opened onto the sitting room, her study was through a doorway on the left, her bedroom and bathroom to the right. 

The sound was coming from the left. 

Yaz knocked on the door lightly but there was no answer. 

“Doctor, you okay in there?” 

She cursed inwardly at herself. What a stupid question. Of course she wasn’t. The screams were bone chilling and Yaz let herself in. She couldn’t see the Doctor initially, until she stepped around the desk. The Doctor was lying on the floor, her body contorted into a horrible, painful looking position while she screamed and screamed and screamed. 

Yaz dropped to her knees next to her, the TARDIS bonging unhappily. 

She grabbed the Doctor’s shoulder, trying to rouse her from whatever nightmare she was reliving… if indeed this was a nightmare. Her eyes were closed but Yaz could feel heat radiating from her body. She was usually cooler than Yaz but whatever was happening, she was apparently in the midst of a terrible fever. 

The TARDIS flung open the doors to the suite and turned on the lights beside the bed. Yaz smiled, getting the message. The TARDIS was always looking out for her thief, even when she was mad at her. Yaz had moved beyond plain anger now. She was livid, but she was also so very worried about her. 

Yaz scooped her up, her muscles seemed to be contracting and spasming at random, contorting and twisting her body while she screamed in what Yaz was now pretty sure was pain. Yaz expected her to be heavy, part of her police training had involved lifting people in an emergency situation, but she wasn’t. She was frighteningly, disturbingly light. But the writhing made her difficult to carry and Yaz was terrified she was going to drop her. She carried her through to the bedroom, the screaming echoing around the room and placed her on the bed. 

What was she supposed to do? She had emergency training from work but that was CPR and bandages… not whatever this was. 

The Doctor gave her loudest scream yet, her back arched, her face contorted with agony. 

“I don’t know what to do!” Yaz wailed. “I don’t know what you need.” 

The TARDIS beeped urgently, the corridor lights were flashing and Yaz followed them. The medbay. It had moved to right outside the suite. And there was a green box sitting on the counter that Yaz knew hadn’t been there before. She grabbed it, knowing it was the right thing to do and sprinted back to the Doctor’s bedroom, already opening the box and flinging out the contents. Some of it she recognised, some she didn’t but everything came with diagrams and was helpfully numbered. 

The first thing was a mask, it looked similar to an ordinary oxygen mask that Yaz recognised but it was attached to what looked like a plastic bag and as soon as Yaz had secured it over her face it started dispensing some sort of dark blue, almost black gas. 

The next was a series of vicious looking needles containing different coloured liquids. Yaz had never injected anyone in her life but at this point it didn’t seem like the Doctor was going to get any worse. Yaz stabbed her with them one after the other, injecting the liquid while the Doctor continued to writhe and scream, now muffled from the mask. 

The last was a pot of a thick, purple gel that smelled faintly of… tea? The picture showed applying the gel to bruising… Yaz tentatively lifted the Doctor’s t-shirt and gasped in shock. 

She wasn’t bruised as such but her skin was black, thick tendrils that appeared to originate from her heart and were spreading across her torso like a spiders web, criss-crossing across her body. 

There were scissors in the box and Yaz used them to tear her t-shirt and undershirt off. The horrible black lines were everywhere. 

Was she… was she dying? 

Yaz raised a hand to the Doctor’ sweaty face and gently swept a strand of damp hair away from her face. 

But… 

It was like a flash of electricity. 

Like she couldn’t move. 

Emotions that didn’t belong to her were coursing through her body. 

Pain. Fear. Anger. Torment. Grief. Loneliness. Sadness. Loss. Terror. 

More than Yaz had ever known. It left her breathless. 

And memories. 

Memories that weren’t hers flooded into her brain. 

Prison. 

Cold. 

Alone. 

Afraid. 

Being tortured. 

Being beaten. 

Being starved. 

Held down by restraints and experimented on. 

So much pain. 

So much loss. 

It made her gasp for breath and she tore her hand away from the Doctor’s face, struggling to remain conscious, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it all. 

No wonder the Doctor was screaming. 

Yaz had been inside her head for a split second and she wanted to scream too. 

She was in agony. 

And not just the sort that was caused by whatever sickness had taken over her body. All that loss. All that grief. How did she keep going? How had she ever smiled? And that prison… Yaz couldn’t even begin to imagine the mental anguish she had been through… well she didn’t have to, she had felt it. But God, how was she still moving forward. No wonder she had been so difficult recently. 

Carefully Yaz began to smear the thick purple gunk across the Doctor’s body. It was strangely warm to the touch and sat on her skin rather than being absorbed. Sure that she had done all she could for now, Yaz carefully tucked the covers round the Doctor and fetched a face cloth from the bathroom which she had dipped in cold water to try and bring her temperature down. 

Then she sat. 

What was she supposed to do now? She didn’t know anything about alien illnesses but it was very clear that the Doctor had one. Yaz had never seen nor heard about anything like it. She barely knew about human illnesses, the worst she’d ever had was the a case of whooping cough when she was six. But the Doctor looked so sick. 

Yaz sat up with her all night. Eventually the screams quietened to whimpers but Yaz wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing. Surprisingly, they weren’t any easier to hear. The only thing she could do was keep applying the purple gel to each new patch of black that appeared on her grey, badly scarred skin and keep the facecloth on her head cold. It was awful. Yaz had never felt so helpless in her entire life. 

Somehow this was worse than her not saying goodbye and then disappearing without so much as a backwards glance out the TARDIS doors. 

_Live Great Lives._

Yaz had been so incredibly angry with her. How dare she sacrifice herself like that? Didn’t she know that the universe was relying on her? That people needed her? That Yaz needed her? 

The sun finally appeared. The Doctor had quietened somewhat. She didn’t seem happy, but she did seem like she was in less pain now. The purple gel which was now smeared across most of her body had finally started to absorb into her skin and the horrible black tendrils that had criss-crossed across her body had faded ever so slightly. Did that mean it was working? Yaz wasn’t sure. 

Mid-morning arrived and the corridor started flashing again. Yaz followed it and wasn’t surprised when there was a fresh collection of the colourful syringes. Yaz took them back to the bedroom. At least she was easier to inject when she wasn’t screaming in pain. 

Morning turned to afternoon. The Doctor had fallen silent and so very still. Yaz stayed where she was, curled up in her chair like a cat, dozing in and out fitfully. 

When afternoon became night Yaz was forced to go in search of food but once again the TARDIS has provided and as soon as she arrives in the kitchen there is a cardboard box containing what she recognises as her usual order from the chippy down the road from her flat. Trusting that the TARDIS will alert her if she's needed Yaz sank down onto the chair and took the time to idly scroll through her phone and have some respite. She sent Ryan a message, no specifics, though he had been aware of some of the reservations she's been having, but she has no idea what day or time it is for him, and when he doesn't reply is he asleep or working? Somehow she feels even more alone now than she did when the Doctor disappeared for the best part of three weeks. With a sigh, Yaz threw out the empty box and pushed herself away from the table. The corridors looped her back to her own room and Yaz silently thanked the TARDIS as she was able to step into the shower and change her clothes. 

She was only away from the Doctor for about an hour but it felt amazing as she wandered quietly back into the other woman's private suite now wearing her favourite star jumper instead of pyjamas and her hair neatly plaited rather than bed head. The Doctor was exactly as she left her, her skin icy to the touch and Yaz slipped a couple of hot water bottles under the duvet and added yet another blanket, she already had about six. 

  
  


  
  


Where was she? The Doctor blinked, trying to bring the space into focus. 

Her bedroom?

How in stars name had she gotten there?

Her head felt like it had a marching band playing an out of tune disco in there while her whole body felt like it had been run over by a steamroller. Everything ached. And it still didn't explain how she had ended up in bed. She had been running from the local inhabitants, that much she remembered. There had been a something... it looked almost like a purple elephant with horns... it knocked her to the ground and when it had, she had felt the most searing pain radiating throughout her body, starting from her chest. Had she been bitten by something? She was sure she'd made it to the console room and managed to get into the time vortex. And then she was in her study, trying to research what might have bitten her because she hadn't seen it. And then... she had been so sure she'd been about to die. It had felt like such a blessed relief as she had pitched forward to the floor, a weighty tome her only pillow. She felt a little triumphant at finally figuring out what had happened and it felt as though a modicum of the fog that was surrounding her brain was lifting. 

She lifted her head a few inches from the pillow, trying to see if there were any more clues and she squinted against the light from the fireplace. It felt like it was burning into her retinas. 

Yaz. 

How had she forgotten about Yaz?   
  


She was slumped over the bed awkwardly, sitting in a chair, her head resting on her arms on top of the many blankets. Even in sleep her face was pinched and anxious. 

Suddenly how she had made it onto the bed made sense and she felt very embarrassed and very guilty.

Trying not to aggravate the marching band that was rattling around in her skull anymore she untangled herself from the top blanket and awkwardly draped it over Yaz as best she could considering her entire body felt like it was made of lead and was refusing to do as she commanded. 

Yaz shifted slightly but didn't wake and somehow her hand ended up beside the Doctor's. She longed to reach out and take it, longed for the comfort, the _connection_ that it would bring. She did, Yaz's hand felt so warm and soft, like a hug and the Doctor allowed her eyes to close, feeling... almost feeling safe. She felt the tug of unconsciousness pulling her back down and she let go of Yaz's hand. It was nice, but it felt wrong to use her like that...

  
  


  
  


_She was in the console room in her pyjamas. Why was she in pyjamas? The room felt warm and comfortable, more like home than it had been lately. From nowhere a screen appeared at the back of the room and without consciously making the decision to do so, the Doctor found herself walking towards it as it flickered to life in front of her._

_It showed the console room... her and Yaz. Yaz sitting on the beehive steps while she was working. She remembered this, she had been trying to fix one of the stabilisers, just before she had gone out to the planet. She hadn't realised Yaz had been there. Yaz kept talking to her but she never got a reply. In the end she just got up and wandered off looking hurt._

_The screen flickered. It was a few days later. The TARDIS had made her another cup of tea and a plate of sandwiches. She kept doing that... except that was Yaz standing in the kitchen making tea and sandwiches in the kitchen and leaving them on the console for her without a word._

_It changed again. Yaz was alone this time, heading out to the planet she had just been on. Why was she doing that? Didn't she know it had dangerous psychotropic waves? Yaz appeared again, staggering back into the console room, clutching her head and groaning._

_Another scene. This time Yaz was talking to the TARDIS, begging her that even if she had to spend the rest of her life living there alone, that the TARDIS should move close enough to wherever the Doctor was so Yaz could bury her body._

_"Please, she deserves to rest with dignity and in peace." Yaz was begging._

_Another scene. A stand off, Yaz desperately trying to reach her. The Doctor winced when she saw herself grab at Yaz, this time she didn't miss the flash of pain across Yaz's face at her grip or the look of fear in her eyes. Or how she stumbled backwards as the Doctor pushed her. Had she really done that?_

_Another scene of just Yaz. Yaz asleep in her bedroom. Until she wasn't. The TARDIS was taking her somewhere. There was screaming and Yaz broke into a run. She could see herself screaming in pain on the floor. Somewhere at the back of her mind she could still feel it. Yaz was carrying her onto the bed. She was crying._

_The images coming faster now. Yaz injecting her with something while she was writing on the bed, inhaling pain relief through a mask... she touched her face, she could still feel it. Yaz crying. Yaz rubbing a purple tannin based medical gel across her body. Yaz sleeping next to her. Yaz injecting her again. Yaz sponging down her sweaty face. Yaz dressing her in the pyjamas she was wearing now. Yaz talking to her, stroking her hair._

She woke with a gasp.

Her mouth was so dry it felt like she couldn't breathe. She couldn't sit. She couldn't move. 

Panic. Fear. 

Help!

Suddenly there were strong arms under her shoulders, raising her up, a straw being pushed through her lips and she gulped greedily at it. The water trickling down her throat was wonderful relief. 

The straw was taken away again.

She missed it immediately.

She was being laid back down again, a mask was clamped over her face again and the blankets were being arranged around her. The pieces of her dream... had it been a dream?.. were coming back to her. She forced herself to open her eyes. Yaz was there, smoothing disgustingly greasy hair away from her face... it hadn't looked like that since she was in prison. 

She tried to pull the mask off, to say something to Yaz, though she wasn't sure what, but before she could Yaz had caught her by the wrists and had gently resettled her arms by her side. 

"Leave the mask, it's the only thing stopping you screaming in pain." Yaz said bluntly. Her voice was calm but unemotional and the Doctor watched her as she sat down again, folding her arms across her chest and crossing her legs. It didn't take a genius to work out that body language. Even her socially awkward brain could manage it. Yaz was not happy. And the Doctor couldn't blame her. 

She waved her hand at Yaz, hoping she would take it but she didn't. 

"Do you understand what I'm saying?" Yaz asked, her face set like stone though her voice remained eerily calm. It was disconcerting. 

The Doctor nodded, concerned about where this was going.

"Good. Then I have something I need to say and I'm only going to have this conversation with you once. I can't keep doing this. You left me alone for seventeen days. Not a note. Not a message. Nothing. I thought you were dead because we both know you've got so reckless recently it's hardly beyond the realms of possibility is it? I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life living on a planet I can't stand to be outside on. I thought you were the best person I ever met. Now I'm wondering if I even like you. You're rude, evasive, cold, uncaring. I have no idea who you are anymore. And that's terrifying to me. If you died it would be terrible. It would be like the sun itself going out. The worst thing I can imagine. But I've been in your head Doctor. We... I don't know exactly. I know you're telepathic but we connected and I saw it all. I know you're hurting and God... what an inadequate word. But that doesn't give you the right to treat me the way you have been recently. I'm your friend, and from what I can tell the only one you've got right now but I can't put up with this indefinitely. You need to make some decisions and I can't make them for you. "

Yaz stood up and walked to the door. "The TARDIS says you should stay in bed and I know she'll tell me if you don't. I'll check on you later."

The Doctor watched her go, far too exhausted to even contemplate getting up and going after her but Yaz's words were sitting in her gut like a huge lump of rock, weighing on her psyche. 

_She's crying again._ The TARDIS chimed in her head.

_Yes I know that thank-you._

_  
  
_

__  
  


The Doctor realised that she must have fallen asleep again when it was suddenly dark out and Yaz was sitting across the bed staring at her. She didn't look angry as such. How long had she been asleep for? She wasn't sure. She carefully tugged the mask away from her face. This time Yaz didn't stop her. The pain came back almost instantly but she could cope with it this time. There weren't many types of pain relief she could have but Lazaine Gas from one tiny corner of a galaxy could work wonders in a pinch.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Yaz asked, apparently not able to stand the silence anymore.

"It doesn't matter." she muttered churlishly.

"Actually it does. I thought you were dead for seventeen days. Then you come back, ignore me, and I find you hours later screaming like someone's scooped your insides with a spoon and have spent the last two and a half days unconscious. If I wasn't here you would have died. So don't lie there and ask me if it matters."

_Seventeen days? SEVENTEEN DAYS? She had no idea it had been so long._

"I didn't know it was so long... I didn't think you would be worried."

"You..." Yaz spluttered, looking incredulous. "You didn't think I would be worried? Seriously!? I don't even know what to say to that Doctor. How could you think I wouldn't notice? How, after all this time can you possibly still think that I don't care about you?"

The Doctor blinked, trying to bring Yaz more into focus. She was shocked to see that Yaz was crying. 

She didn't know what to say.

"I know you're struggling Doctor. But that's when you need to talk to your friends, not push them away."

_The dream showing her shoving Yaz flashed into her mind._

"It doesn't have to be me, but God, talk to someone. Please."

"The TARDIS will take you home." she said finally. 

There was a pained expression on her face and she was refusing to make eye contact.

"What, so that's it? You're kicking me out because I've disagreed with you?"

"What? No..." she blew out a frustrated breath. What was it with this body and its inability to communicate? "I meant, if I died or if I was hurt, the TARDIS, she has emergency protocols. She'll always take you home."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No! Of course not... do you want to?" she asked, already fearing the answer.

"Honestly, I don't know. I know you told me you couldn't guarantee my safety and I get that. I'm a police officer, I really really get that. But lately it's been like you've been on a suicide mission or something. And you certainly don't want me anywhere near you. I can hear you, you know. When you start getting angry. The TARDDIS keeps me away from you but I know."

The Doctor felt her cheeks flush. 

"Tell me what happened on Gallifrey."

"It's not important." she balked, not wanting to get into it. She didn't understand it herself yet. She didn’t want Yaz to look at her with pity.

"Clearly it is actually. I’ve been in your head remember?”

“Then you already know.” She muttered, looking anywhere other than at Yaz.

Yaz stared her down, she could feel it.

And suddenly it was like it was all splurging out. Like the words wouldn’t stop coming. She didn’t think she could have stopped talking if she tried. Words after words after words pouring out of her like a hose, spraying Yaz with their sorrow and pain. Words about Gallifrey, about the Master, her whole planet burning, the Cybermasters, prison… so cold, so lonely, so afraid.

Yaz didn’t say anything, she listened, she watched. But there was no trace of pity or disgust in those eyes. They were just kind.

Her head was spinning with the effort.

Yaz was holding her hand. When did that happen?

She was annoyed with herself when she realised she didn’t want Yaz to let go, she was clinging to Yaz like she was a lifeline.

And Yaz was letting her, like it was the most normal thing in the universe. Why was Yaz letting her?

This was probably more conversation than they’d had in the entire six months since she’d been in prison.

“What do you need?” Yaz asked, her voice more gentle now. More like herself.

What did she need? She didn’t even know where to start. Then the words were out before she could stop them.

“A shower.”

Well she did. She had clearly been sweating her way through a fever, her pyjamas (Stars, had Yaz really dressed her? How embarrassing.) were damp and sticky, her skin felt horrible, her hair was almost as greasy as it had been in prison and she was sure she smelled.

But Yaz laughed. An actual laugh.

“Can you get up?”

She wanted to say that of course she could. She wasn’t an invalid. She was more than capable of walking the ten paces or so to the bathroom only, she wasn’t actually sure. She still felt so heavy and achey.

Yaz sensed her hesitation.

“Come on, I’ll help you.”

Yaz was deceptively strong and she easily supported the Doctor’s weight across the bedroom and into the bathroom, depositing her on the side of the bath. She turned on the taps to the bath and added a liberal dose of bubblebath to the mix before, thankfully, leaving her in peace.

The Doctor stripped off, holding onto the wall for balance before sinking into the hot, foamy water. It felt like heaven. Even the first bath she’d had after prison hadn’t felt this good. It was warm and hot and soothing and relaxing and… she didn’t even have the words and she laid back blissfully, closing her eyes against the headache that was still pounding away.

She lay there for a while before slowly washing her hair and draining the bubbles before she realised her predicament.

She was stuck.

Almost like Yaz had read her mind, or more likely because the TARDIS had told her, there was a knock at the door and Yaz was asking if she needed help.

She tucked her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around herself as Yaz appeared round the door, holding out a towel for her. She self-consciously tried to hide the deep scars that encircled her wrists and wrists and the way her left ankle was on longer straight because she had broken it badly and had received no medical attention. That was to say nothing of numerous other scars scattered across her body.

“I’ve seen it remember?” Yaz reminded her softly, helping her up and out of the bath and into the bedroom.

When the Doctor saw that Yaz had replaced the sheets on the bed with fresh ones, laid out clean pyjamas and tucked a couple of hot water bottles she could have cried. When, after Yaz left her to dress in private, she returned with a plate of hot, buttered toast and a mug of tea she did cry.

Huge, noisy sobs, that wracked her body, causing her to convulse and her breath to heave, that made her head spin and her hearts beat faster in sympathy.

And then she was moving. Yaz was easing her back against the soft pillows, moving her so she was tucked in close.

She resisted at first, not sure what was happening. But Yaz was, as ever, persistent, and she found herself being held in Yaz’s arms.

It was a new sensation in this body, being hugged.

It was a new sensation entirely to be hugged like this.

She’d never been small enough before.

She felt so tiny as Yaz held her close, all curled up and fitting under Yaz’s chin.

She felt like a small child.

But she couldn’t bring herself to move away.

Because she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so warm or safe or… loved?

She cried until it felt like her body didn’t contain an ounce of liquid anymore. Until she was reduced to a quivering wreck. Until her eyes burned from the salt. Until Yaz’s t-shirt was saturated. And yet, still Yaz didn’t pull away. She was stroking her hair gently. 

Eventually though, was it after several minutes? hours? days? the need to rehydrate became too great to bear and she allowed Yaz to help her into a sitting position. Her body had gone from feeling like it was made of lead to feeling like it was made of jelly.

“You need to sleep, properly sleep.” Yaz told her when she had eaten the toast and downed three mugs of overly sugared tea.

“I’m fine.” She insisted. “Been sleeping for days. That’s enough for months.

But that wasn’t true, her whole body felt exhausted and she was struggling to stay awake.

“Being unconscious isn’t the same as sleeping.”

“I don’t need that much sleep.”

“But you do need some. You’ve been very sick Doctor, your body needs to rest so it can heal.”

The Doctor didn’t dare tell Yaz the real reason she shunned sleep. It was too humiliating.

“Are you worried the nightmares will come back?” Yaz asked so gently, so understandingly, it almost made her feel sick.

She didn’t answer.

“I had nightmares as a teenager. I told you about Izzie Flint. Probably seems stupid to you but it were horrible at the time. I was so scared she was gonna out me to my family.”

“Did the nightmares go away?” the Doctor asked in spite of herself.

“Sure… after Izzie outed me and my parents were fine with it… well not fine but they didn’t hate me.”

“Oh.”

There was silence for a minute before Yaz interrupted it.

“How does your telepathy work?” Yaz asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, could you share my dreams or something… I dunno…” she trailed off, feeling stupid.

“It’s a nice thought Yaz but your dreams are private. I wouldn’t wanna intrude on that.”

“Well I’m offering. And if it’ll help you then I’m consenting.”

“You don’t even know what you’re offering.”

“Would it hurt?” Yaz challenged.

“Well no…”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”

“I…”

Yaz took hold her hand tightly, lying down beside her on top of the covers.

“Is this enough for you to connect with me?”

“Yaz I…” the Doctor protested.

“Goodnight Doctor.” Yaz said firmly, closing her eyes pointedly. “Sleep well.”

And she did.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday to you,  
> Happy Birthday to you,  
> Happy Birthday dear Walkerlister,  
> Happy Birthday to you!


End file.
